The World, Piece by Piece
by SpeakingThroughWrittenWords
Summary: Drabbles. Sixty Four different scenarios of the past that might have been and the future which is still uncertain.
1. 2 am

**2 a.m.**

They kept coming down. It was worse than the screaming of the high explosive bombs, was the sound of the firebombs. They had been going for hours.

England felt as if he was going to go mad.

It was the repetition that kept them going. Only the hope they could save one thing tonight. Keep the fires at bay. Keep the fires away from St. Paul's Cathedral. There was no stopping. If any of them halted, the fires would come, sweeping across the churchyard. If any of the Watch stopped the roof would be aflame and all of this hard work would be for naught.

Something had to be won this night. England had not seen London so ablaze since 1666. If his hazy mind availed him, just for this moment, he would forget how small that fire seemed now. And that it was not only London.

Somewhere inside of him he was screaming.

Somewhere outside of him he put out another fire.

If only his tears were enough to cleanse the burns from his people.

* * *

_The evening of December 29 was the beginning of the Second Great Fire of London, the most destructive raid of the London Blitz. Over 1,500 fires were started, stretching from Islington to St. Paul's Churchyard. The Cathedral was saved by dedicated firemen and St. Paul's Watch who kept the fires breaking out on the roof from spreading._


	2. Metaphor

**Metaphor**

America was a hamburger.

An American one, of course. No other country had the sheer amount of ingredients, or the size, to really compare.

He was the meat. He was the substance of the food. He was the reason people bought the hamburger and he was the part people enjoyed the most, even if they believed they needed everything else to make him so. They had the choice and he did not mind, as long as the meat patty was consumed.

The cheese, pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, and onions; Dill, Gherkin, Polish, Lime; Provolone, Cheddar, Liederkranz, Velveeta; Cherry, Black Krim, Purple Haze, Juliet; Butterhead, Looseleaf, Romaine, Batavian; Welsh, Leek, Bulb, Tree... Those were his people. The so many varieties that would meet each other every day, the ever changing constant of the American population.

Then there were the condiments. Ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, relish... Those were his lands. The seasoning, the differences and yet, they were all his. That was what made them similar. They all were free and people chose to stay with what they had or to move to another mixture.

Covered in the uniform bread (of whatever type one wanted) which kept all of these nuances under the same roof. Those were his freedoms, that Constitution, those Amendments...

Japan found after this depth of thought he was hungry.

So he went and ate a hamburger.

"You are a hamburger," Japan told him one day.

America laughed. Japan figured he didn't get it.


	3. Sky

**Sky**

She was a far and long time in coming, but it was because of her the lights existed. Matthew's breath ghosted from his mouth and blurred his vision for a moment.

Those lights. He never grew tired of them. Even in the few moments he wished for other things, he took it all back. He wanted nothing to change, as long as Aurora and Boreas came to visit him. As long as they brought along his Northern Lights, Matthew could be content. Hand clutched into white fur and he would simply watch.

He would go further North, to where others would never decide on a whim to go, and watch there, sitting in snow and bear keeping him warm. Everything else in the world could just do its own thing for a little while. Just a little while, until he came back to it.

Frozen winds would beat against him and Matthew would smile. Whether one had to ruin the magic of the moment with astronomy, atmosphere, it did not matter. The point was the wind had brought him here and she, the light so far in the distance, brought the colours to him.

Of the Amenoi, he loved Boreas the most.

But that was no match of his love for Aurora.

And from his side of the world, Ivan was inclined to agree.

* * *

_The effect of a natural light display in the Northern Hemisphere was named Aurora Borealis by Pierre Gassendi in 1621. Aurora for the Roman Goddess of Dawn and Borealis for Boreas, the Greek name for the North Wind._


	4. Lost Scene

**Lost Scene**

"What is that, aru?"

China could not help his curiousity. It seemed like a normal bell, after all, but Japan seemed rather protective of it from where it hung.

"The bell of Miidera," Japan responded tonelessly. China was certain the bell had more of a tone than Japan and decided to go find out.

Walking towards it finally got a rise out of him.

"You must not touch it!" the smaller man stopped in front of him.

"Why not, aru?" China questioned.

"It should not be touched by any not of my people's hands," Japan responded coolly. "It rings out a clear sound once a day. If you wish to hear it, please come then."

"What happens if someone else rings it, aru?" China sighed. This country was so picky!

"Such an action would pollute and dull the metal, as well as bring calamity upon me," Japan responded immediately. China tried not to be offended, but his irritation rose quickly. Another country he would understand, but _his_ touch defiling?

"That's stupid!" he retorted. He stared at him. Japan's face did not change. China sighed. "Fine then, aru. I won't touch the bell."

At least, China decided not to try when Japan was around.

"I'll make it sound, aru," China smirked, climbing up to the belfry. "And it will be grateful for it!"

The bronze bell stayed still, suspended in the air. China touched it.

The bronze he touched shrank leaving a whole where it once was smooth. The polish vanished.

The next night, Japan stabbed him.

* * *

_The original legend was that a woman could not strike the bell, for the bell would rot and calamity would fall upon Japan. A vain, irreverent woman decided the bronze bell would make an excellent mirror to make up her face and hair with and went to Miidera for the sole purpose of sounding it. And it dulled and such. Sexist, yes. But I focused on the irreverent part and placed it as different people for this story so it would fit._


	5. Degrees

**Degrees**

"Damn, it must be about forty degrees out!" France pouted as he opened the window.

"Not my fault the air conditioning's out," England drank his tea. Hot tea. No one knew how he did it.

"Naw, you joking? That would be weird. It's definitely in the hundreds," America nodded, certain in his words as always. France stared at him strangely.

"We'd be melting in the hundreds," Austria said in a matter of fact tone, trying to ignore the fact his shirt still seemed to be retaining in every spec of heat around him.

"I don't think we would have stayed long enough for that," Spain agreed. He was grinning, poking at the unconscious Russia who had refused to take off his scarf had had passed out from heat stroke a few minutes before.

"What are you guys talking about?" America demanded. He was not wrong, of course, but he knew something was up when everyone else seemed to agree to disagree with him.

"They are talking in Celsius, America," England mentioned casually. "The Universal temperature language you refuse to get on board with?"

"Hey, Belize was with me on that too!" America mentioned the never before heard of country, never to be heard of again. Just like Canada.

"Wh-"

"We aren't forcing you to change," Germany began before America could open his mouth. The fact his words stampeded Cana-

Oops. Who?

"Yeah, we're just telling you why you get lost more than usual in our conversations, aru," China agreed.

Japan had cleverly deigned himself to be quiet on the matter.

"I like Kelvin, myself," Italy said happily.

The other countries turned on him in horror.

Cause really, that just could not be right.

* * *

_Everyone uses Celcius except for America (and others like Belize, but my point is there are not many). The UK uses both Farhenheit and Celsius on a common basis, so I hear. But everyone else uses Celcius. And Italy does not really use Kelvin. That was used for a joke expense. Kelvin is too scientific for Feliciano._


	6. Seize the Day

**Seize the Day**

"What are you doing?"

"Um, what does it look like?"

Kiku was not certain he wanted to speculate as to what it looked like and fixed the blond with an incalculable stare. Kiku was quite good at those. Not that they did much against the other. Kiku was certain everything flew over his head.

So Kiku was not even going to bother to egg him on. After all, he was going to do it anyways.

"My people have a saying, y'know? _'__Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Being alive is the special occasion.'_ And I was just thinking about that and... well..."

"You came up with this?"

He nodded. Kiku could not help but smile.

"My people have a similar saying. _'We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance.'_"

"This isn't a dance."

"Oh, but it is. It most certainly is."

Alfred was cute when he was trying to think. Kiku decided to reward the effort.

**Seize the day and place no trust in tomorrow.

* * *

**

_"Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Being alive is the special occasion." - author unknown. Alfred likes taking unknown things, if it helps him out any._

_"We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance." - Japanese proverb. Kind of obvious, despite Kiku._

_Seize the day... Carpe diem.  
_


	7. Opposite

**Opposite**

"I hate you Germany!" Italy said happily. Germany choked on air before turning to look at the shorter of the pair.

"You what?" he questioned, wondering whether he had suddenly lost it. He was certain hate was not in the Italian's vocabulary. Scary, yes. Tall, another one. But hate? Not remotely.

"It's Opposite Day!" Italy blinked at him. "So you say the opposite of what you mean! So, I hate you!"

Germany was certain he would have to get some alcohol inside him before he tried to think this one out.

"Everything is the opposite," Germany repeated. Italy nodded, paused, thought about it, then shook his head.

"No," Italy agreed with him.

"So, therefore, your claim of it being Opposite Day means it is not Opposite Day," Germany drawled, wondering why he was even going to bother. Italy stared at him in confusion.

"No..." he whined. "It is!"

"But that means it's not."

"It's not then! It's not Opposite Day!"

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"Germany!" Italy protested, hitting his head into the German's chest. "Stop that!"

"So you want me to continue?"

"No! Um, wait. I mean yes!"

"Then I'll keep going."

"_Germany!_"

Germany felt somewhat proud of himself, until he remembered he simply confused an Italian. And that simply was not much of an accomplishment.

* * *

_There are sources saying it is always in January, saying it is always in April, and saying it is just whenever someone declares it. It is _not _confusing. I hear crafty children say it will be Opposite Day tomorrow, to get out of the sort of mess Feliciano got himself in.  
_


	8. Passions Run

**Passions Run**

"It was a crime of passion," was his excuse. Arthur felt like shoving his excuse so far up his ass he would wish he had never thought of it.

"And that gives you an excuse?" Arthur snapped. That seemed simply stupid.

"Oh yes, in my country it was a valid defense," came with a smile. Arthur was going to do something, wipe that stupid smile off of his face, and fix the problem.

"'_Oh yes'?_" Arthur mocked. That seemed entirely a sentence in past tense and not an excuse for now.

He did not have time for anything else other than that as the other's mouth was on his neck and his hands were... Arthur could not think.

"Oh _yes_," Francis' tongue ran down past his collar.

That seemed to decide it for Arthur. He would get his lawnmower back later.

* * *

_Saying it was a crime of passion was a valid defense, in France. Then someone decided to change that. Thank goodness, or else I would never want to go there._


	9. Connection

**Connection**

They had told the others they were discussing some sort of health-food distribution. And they had, at first. Then America had started complaining about the marijuana stints which were growing in his country. At least he was now doing it while high, this time. America could be such a hypocrite.

The cards were on the table and their drinks were topped in front of them.

America would be drinking his whisky. Or whiskey, as he preferred it. France had his Armagnac, look on his face saying he would rather be sipping at it then waiting for the cards. And set in front of Germany was his Himbeergeist.

America's top card was an eight of hearts. France's was a three of spades. Germany's was a nine of hearts.

"Good luck," France giggled. They began refilling their glasses as they took each shot.

There was a four of clubs, ten of diamonds, ace of diamonds. Germany downed fourteen of them faster than France went through his ten.

"Lightweight," America snorted. France was rather offended.

"I am _enjoying_ myself," he defended smoothly. "And it's not like I'm drinking some raspberry excuse for alcohol."

"What was that?" Germany frowned. Not that he ever did otherwise.

"You think England will be offended we didn't invite him?" America asked, two of diamonds causing France to be unable to answer for a few moments.

"Who cares," Germany grumbled. "He fell after two aces in a row."

"He didn't even get through all twenty eight drinks he should have had! One would have thought the deck was stacked," France grinned at America.

Germany drew another two and he and America downed theirs quickly.

France had a Jack of clubs and Germany flipped up another ace.

"Talk about stacked," America snorted, after Germany pulled out a King to America's three.

"Wha yer talkin' 'bout?" Germany somehow managed. Maybe the larger glasses had been a bad idea. Of course, Germany was the only who was thinking that. And he really was not thinking it as he was beyond buzzing.

France began giggling like crazy when Germany could not even pick up his glass and America was downing eleven.

"Fuck you," America flipped him off as France flipped over his card. "Take your seven and stuff it."

"Where, my dear America?" France asked lewdly as America downed another eleven.

"You're askin' for it," the first sign of America's lack of sobriety raised its head.

So did Canada.

"What are you three doing down here, eh?" he questioned, turning on the main lights. America swore. France covered his eyes. Germany was still trying to pick up his glass from the time he had flipped over a six.

He was still trying to by the time France and America had made a break for it. Canada sighed.

"Really, one would think you guys are starting a drug ring, being as secretive as you try and make yourselves," Canada shook his head, trying to get Germany up the stairs.

"D'n w'n' 'K ruinin' th'n'..." Germany lied. He just did not want Italy to want to join in. Or any of the other countries saying he was an alcoholic. Or other stuff.

France and America went to Austria's place and convinced him to play a game.

* * *

_Connection is a drinking game played with three or more people. Needed materials: a pack of regular playing cards and alcohol. And the preceding thing will happen. Well, if you are playing with France, Germany, and America, that is. Basically whenever a card matches one of the last cards played, number or suit, each player drinks as many as the number on their card. I suppose you win if you are the last one to pass out, or something like that.  
_

_I based this on the Yogurt Connection, which was a drug smuggling ring in the United States, started by a mother and her two boys. The people involved got caught eventually in Austria after they moved there to get out of dodge and another person involved was caught for murder in Canada and he hung himself. So you know what is going to happen to France and America. Not that Germany is going to hang himself or anything. Damn.  
_


	10. Lull and Storm

**Lull and Storm**

Lithuania was a sailor and Russia was the Sea.

One knows the dangers of the waters. They are never to be taken lightly and one should _never_ take for granted the weather. For once done the waters will swallow them whole and leave calm in its wake. There was no one there, there had never been anyone there. There will never be someone there.

Yet there is the longing. Something there the waters offer that can never be gained on land. A certain freedom. A freedom in the captivity. Go wherever one would like in the Sea, but only where the small ship can take them. Try and go by oneself... and they will be destroyed.

People are not natural seafarers. It is much safer to stay on land.

So Lithuania tries to resist.

But the sea will not accept that answer.

And he gives in.


	11. Animal

**Animal**

Despite how scary he could look, he was so sweet.

Finland loved that about him.

Despite the being scared part.

"_What do you want to do, Su-san?"_

"_D' we 've ta d' an'thn'?"_

Finland would almost feel like scratching his head like he did to Hana-Tamago.

Though just sitting with him was enough.

Despite his stubbornness, he easily gave way.

Finland loved that about him.

Despite the never knowing when that would be part.

"_I don't want to!"_

"_'k."_

"_What?"_

"_'k."_

Finland would almost feel as if the other had simply rolled over.

Though the blush had made him blush.

Despite his passiveness, there was the aggression.

Finland would shudder.

_Tooth and nail. Unclipped claws and jaws of the canine._

_No screams. No number of soldiers. Just the tactics which gave him victory._

"T'no."

"Yeah, Su-san? What is it?"

"L've y'."

"I love you too."

If only he could say that after he washed off the blood.

* * *

_Never forget Sweden used to be the Supreme Ruler of Scandinavia._


	12. Children

**Children**

"_N-no! Don't go back! Being all alone in such a big place is scary! I'll be sad and lonely..."_

"Alfred?" came the timid voice of Matthew. Alfred hugged his gun close to him and glanced over towards the trees.

"What'cha doing here, Matty?" Alfred smiled. Matthew took that as his cue to walk up alongside him.

"If I'm here England and France can't be arguing about me," Matthew said. Alfred's smile fell from his face instantly.

"They fight over you a lot." His voice was hollow.

"_**Being with you calms me down a lot..."**_

"They shouldn't, eh. I like 'em a lot better when they are nice to each other," Matthew's voice wavered.

"England is stupid."

"No..." Matthew swallowed. "He just can't agree with France-"

"_**I'm sorry. I know very well how it feels to be lonely. So I'll be back again."**_

Alfred turned away and Matthew rethought his words.

"Eh... England is stupid," Matthew agreed. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

Alfred continued to look away.

"I miss Arthur," Matthew finally said. He sniffed, keeping his tears at bay. Alfred stayed quiet.

"_**So you do your best too, and become strong."**_

"Me too." Alfred did not turn towards him. Matthew saw his shoulders shaking.

Matthew was not certain whether it was from sadness or anger.


	13. We All Float On

**We All Float On**

**1138**

"Don't name her heir, my liege._ Please._"

Henry had not wanted to hear it. England understood. She was the king's only surviving blood. She was the child of his loins and that was what he wanted on the throne.

The problem was she was _daughter_. Years of convincing his king otherwise accomplished nothing. Henry believed his people sworn to her. But she was a _woman_. England knew his people. They would not submit to the charge of a woman. His future was unstable.

A surfeit of lampreys handed him to instability. His future was set as Stephen of Blois came to take him. So England curled in on himself, trying to ignore the pain.

**1572**

He was tired. The unrest unsettled him. Catherine should have never arranged the marriage, but it was too late. Especially after the assassination attempt. Coligny had barely survived. France just wished it would end.

"No!"

France ran through the streets aimlessly. To get away, get away. He had_ not_ wanted them here, he had _not_ wanted them to come. But here they were and now they were more him than he had wished. But they were _his_ people.

And they were being slaughtered.

Coligny was thrown out of the window. France could not stop his body from heaving. His king and his court went to the Paris Parlement and celebrated while France lay in his vomit and cried.

**1607**

"Hetman Żółkiewski is, like, totally going to do more than Hetman Chodkiewicz."

Lithuania watched. The King was in Chodkiewicz's wing. He had disagreed with that most vehemently. He had also disagreed that Sigismund should try for the Swedish Throne.

But Lithuania had _no_ say. Poland was with him. But Poland had _no_ choice. And Zebrydowski was out there, legally. They were to calm them down.

"See? Chodkiewicz, like, doesn't have to do anything. He-" And it begun. Lithuania tried to stand up, but Poland gripped his wrist. "They're just supposed to talk! Oh my God! They're totally just supposed to talk!"

"They were." Lithuania swallowed.

His sudden weakness was nothing to what Poland must have been feeling as their pacification attempt turned into battle.

**1637**

He was crying, screaming. England could not see why. There was nothing wrong. It was the next day someone told him what had happened. A Pequot village was set on fire. The people were dead. There were only seven hundred. They would catch those who escaped and kill them too.

"_These_ are your people," England crooned to the child. "_My_ people. _These_ people are grateful and don't want to be driven away."

England had a sudden thought in the back of his mind that something was horribly wrong with what he was saying.

Alfred kept crying.

**1937**

"Stop... please... stop..."

Japan did not stop. China had not expected him to. Japan forced him to look over his people as he set them on fire. Screams of people on fire were perhaps some of the worst screams China had ever heard.

"I have restored order." Japan sounded disgusted with his words. China tried to keep his body from touching anything and let the burns on his body suffer.

He choked on the air which was suddenly so cold.

**1944**

He hit him.

Italy stared, not able to comprehend the gesture. The other stood there, back as straight as always, a paper crumpled in his clenched fist. Italy still could feel it, as if he was being hit still, as if the other was beating him mercilessly.

"Why?" he asked.

Germany did not answer.

* * *

_The order is the Anarchy, St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre, Battle of__ Guzów, Mystic Massacre, Nanking Massacre, and the Marzabotto Massacre._


	14. Chess

**Chess**

He was a rook. There really was no doubting it. He would like to think of himself as maybe even the queen, but there was no fooling himself. His worth was certainly not as much as America. America was the queen. Now, if only he would act it.

Or maybe Russia was the rook. But France was definitely the pawn. He had fallen out so quickly to Germany. Which meant that England was a knight. It suited him. So was he the bishop? Or was Russia? It was hard to tell.

That just left the King.

China looked at the other four and wondered how they expected to win this on their own without a King.

* * *

_Common assignment of point values. Pawn = 1. Knight = 3. Bishop = 3. Rook = 5. Queen = 9. The king has no assigned value. It has proven impossible to decide even in a small ballpark for the King's specific importance for any of the assignments of point values._


	15. Duty

**Duty**

"You're gonna regret this, bastard. I'll, like, make sure of it!"

Germany had not needed Poland to tell him such. The fact Oświęcim was no more was already proof of his regret. Sweden had once destroyed this place. Austria and Hungary had taken their part in history in this city. May twentieth saw the concentration camp.

The first year it was simple. The first year it was a prison for those against him.

The iron gate was strung with the words arbeit macht frei. Germany was inclined to agree. After all, it was the only freedom he knew of.

The war continued and Germany did what his job commanded of him.

September third, in 1941. There were too many. Birkenau was not enough to contain them. Then there were those not working. They were useless and a burden. To fulfill one's duty, they could not have baggage in the way. Zyklon B was the answer to this question. Germany was there when his boss agreed to the method, before returning to more important matters. Come ye all, to the Little Red House.

"_You're gonna regret this!"_

_Arbeit macht frei._

It was efficient. The job was done. For the second time he went on command to examine the camp. The Soviets were coming. There were going to take Warsaw and then they were coming.

He watched as four women were hung for smuggling gunpowder.

Auschwitz.

He regretted. He hated.

It was not freedom.

But this was his duty. And Germany would not be found lacking.

* * *

_The Auschwitz Concentration Camp used to be the city Oświęcim, which was destroyed by Swedish troops in1655 and became an Austro-Hungarian city in the late 18th century before finally being returned to Poland. Then the Germans occupied Poland and took Oświęcim and turned it into Auschwitz. May 20th 1940 saw the first prisoners enter Auschwitz._

_Birkenau (or Auschwitz II) was constructed in October 1941 to make more room for more prisoners. September 3rd 1941 saw the first gassing in Auschwitz. It was successful and became the most efficient way of ridding themselves of the weak and elderly prisoners who could not work. The Little Red House was a brick house in Birkenau converted into the first gassing chamber._

_The Jewish prisoners forced to remove bodies from the gassing chamber blew up Crematoria IV with the help of some women prisoners who smuggled in gunpowder from nearby factories. Four of them are caught an hung only a few weeks before Auschwitz is liberated by the Allies._

_The words **arbeit macht frei** have the direct English translation "work makes (one) free."_


	16. RIP

**RIP**

She had to admit, China had really opened her mind. But that suggestive tone in his voice had to go. And so did he.

So she punched him in the face.

Vietnam certainly enjoyed her time alone until China came back with apologies and another Dynasty. _Di du may..._

She ended up punching him several times, but as she always ended up with her house owned by him she decided to just accept it. Plus she liked that hanzi of his. So she changed it into something usable.

Then _he_ came.

"A flower for you, my dearest!"

Vietnam stared at the rose for a few moments and slammed the door in his face. "Lo dit," she grumbled, pretending he had not existed at any point. He continued to return. Vietnam wondered how the hell the flowers ended up on her bed. He reminded her of China. There was two of them. Vietnam could have pulled her hair out.

He stormed in one day declaring his undying love for her. With a squeak which she would never admit to she beat his head in with a sandal and he went away.

"China?"

"Yes, Vietnam?"

She hated him _so_ much. "Can you help me?"

"What, aru?"

"This foreigner keeps coming to my house."

"Consider it done, aru."

She did not consider it done well. China introduced her to France and told her he was going to be spending some time here. He had a freaky smile.

So she punched him in the face. But, remembering China's reaction, instantly regretted it. There had to be a better way of going about this.

"I'm sorry to say China isn't going to be coming today."

Vietnam sighed, smoothing out her white Áo Dài. He spoke the obvious. "Dit con me may tec hang."

"Pardon?"

"What do you want?" she questioned. His response was the same he usually gave. Honestly. Vietnam could not see the appeal of breasts.

So she punched him in the face.

She tried calling China, but he did not return her calls. The message machine complained and complained about Japan. Vietnam felt ripped. So to make herself feel better she bought a RIP and shot him with it. And when he regained consciousness China blamed it on Japan. Vietnam was pissed.

"I hate life," she grumbled at one point, staring out the window. She was expecting the hands on her hips, but she still jumped. "Cai deo gi day?" she exclaimed, pulling away.

"Shall we?" France grinned, trying to look victorious. Vietnam glared at him, arms folded across her chest, and gun in hand. She knew he did not want to be here. She did not want him here either. Then how come he was here?

"Shall we what?" she growled, aiming the gun at him without moving her arms.

"Nothing," he cleared his throat. "Nice house you've got here."

"Di du may." She shot him. RIP cartridge 12-gauge ammunition guns were totally worth it.

* * *

_RIP cartridge 12-gauge ammunition. Incapacitates people for a certain amount of time, depending on the content of the gas and powder inside._

_Vietnam hit them both with Dam Lao. Aka a backfist swing to the temple. It really hurts. She also broke a lot of customs, like not touching someone's head, or touch a member of the opposite sex, or never crossing arms over one's chest._

_China has had four periods of time it took control of Vietnam. Though too many inner problems, let alone the outside issues (coughJapancough), meant China did not hold Vietnam very well._

_Then the French showed up and annexed places in South Vietnam until Rivière got ahead of himself __and took Hanoi. He returned it, but the Vietnamese immediately asked China for help. China and __France came to an agreement about Vietnam, but France was not content. Insert Sino-French War here. China lost for many reasons, the most important being the Sino-Japanese War. But as Thomazi said, _"France gained Indochina very much against its own wishes."

_My Vietnamese was tried to be found on the Internet. Anyone want to send me any corrections, it will be appreciated, but it is hard to discover what is actually an insult online in a language not commonly spoken in my country. That is what I get for writing one drabble a day - I want to put something up before I have really perfected it. Again, someone please send me corrections!_


	17. Missing Time

**Missing Time**

**"_America-san?"_**

"Com'on, you can at least tell me that you wiped my memory!"

Despite his pleading, Tony was insistent.

**"_Yeah, Japan?"_**

"Further tests on you would be a fucking waste of time. We didn't do nothin' to your stupid memory."

America knew that could not be right, or else he would remember last week.

"I'm not asking you tell me what you did or anything!"

**"_Did you just kiss me?"_**

"Fuck you!"

Tony left America still wondering what happened in the blank space of his memory which was up until last week.

**"_I'm sorry! I didn't! America! Look at this!"_**

**"_What?"_**

**_Flash._**

"Damn. I wish I knew what the hell just happened!"

Japan fidgeted with the technology he had stolen from Tony and was glad America didn't.


	18. Crest

**Crest**

"Hey, England!"

England groaned. Because that had become an automatic reaction to dealing with America – a groan. Most people had that reaction to America. At least, the people England could label as sane.

"I know it's your birthday–" America started before England covered his mouth with a hand.

"_Shh!_ will you?" England hissed at him. America said something muffled by England's hand and England let go of his mouth with a disgusted look, wiping off America's slime from his hand.

"I forgot some people don't like remembering how old they are, gramps," America grinned. "But I–"

"Don't want to hear it," England grumbled. America looked genuinely surprised.

"But I got you a present!" he protested. England stared at him.

"You... what?"

Shocking disbelief. England stared upon the other country. He looked so sincere, had he really done that? Was it really...

"Just because you denied it last time," America shoved the basket into his hands. "And if you're going to be kissing people, like France, then you probably want to fix up those teeth of yours." With a thumbs up and a wink, America left.

England looked down into the basket. Floss, mints, wash, those charged mechanical toothbrushes, a certificate for free dental work.

And with all of that, was tons and tons of Crest.

"Damn it America!" England yelled at the direction where the other had left in. "Just because _you_ have to have straight, perfect, white, perfect fucking teeth! It doesn't mean anything you horrid prat! You bloody–"

Then England comprehended all what America had said.

"I don't just go around kissing anyone! Especially France!" he screamed.

That was France's deal.

* * *

_Sort of a continuation to Passions Run. Or any other situation where Arthur is caught with France and deeply regrets it. Which would be all the time, right?_

_When is England's birthday anyways? Anyone know?_


	19. Itch

**Itch**

There seemed to be something wrong, but America could not put his finger on it. He asked China instead. So that nation put his finger on it for him.

America was not certain that was what was wrong, but thanked him all the same.

It was like a constant itch in the back of his mind. Something he could not quite scratch. China would offer to do it for him and America saw no problem with it.

"You're so helpful."

"Why not, aru? Take a break, America. I can handle this, aru."

"Wow, thanks China!"

Yet something was wrong. America could not place it. And for some reason he did not want to admit it to anyone but China. China seemed pleased. Maybe because America could trust him with that and no one else? America was not certain.

"Just relax, aru. Let me do this."

America almost did not feel like responding, China's fingers working away the knots in his back.

"Thanks... China..."

He could feel China's smile against the nape of his neck.

He could feel China's smile against the front of his neck, teeth running along his jugular.

America sat there, China long since gone, feeling that smile.

It felt wrong.

It itched.


	20. Explode

**Explode**

China was glaring at him, and if he had anything to say about it, he thought it was quite rude. "Be a man, aru. Do the right thing!" He said again, hitting the table lightly with his hands.

The other nation blinked, not intimidated by the fact that the blows on the table were meant for him. "I'm not paying that much for a trade agreement."

"You're going to go around the other nations and decide not to trade with them, aru." China said a-matter-of-factly. He knew this was convincing. After all, it worked on everyone else. "Then you'll come back and say '_I'll take it for thirty five'_ and I'll say _'Noooo, aru! The price has gone up forty more'_!"

"That's... stupid." He then quickly added, "And not an incentive. No deal."

"Last chance, aru!"

"Stop. Or _somebody's_ gonna get a hurt real bad." He gritted his teeth, showing his fist just above the table to show he meant it.

"Just take the deal, aru!"

"You asked for it!"

The rest of the nations decided to continue the meeting without waiting for China and India to stop bickering. And punching each other. Germany glowered. He hated when Italy would change the seating arrangements.

"But they need to make up!" Italy pouted.

"Not going to happen," Japan shook his head. "They can work together, certainly. Just as long as they are not working with each other."

Everyone was inclined to agree. Except America.

"Wait. Isn't that the same thing?"

* * *

_Thank you Russel Peters, for saying all of this. And to DF for fixing up a few things.  
_


	21. Rise

**Rise**

It was supposed to be easy. The ingredients were there. Maybe the amounts could be a bit difficult, depending on what sort of outcome was wanted. But mixing them together was not hard at all. And pouring it out into the pan.

The most difficult part was waiting for the cake while it baked.

He leaned against the counter at the opposite side of the kitchen, watching the oven.

There were some things he would wait for. He would wait for everything.

There was just some things he did not want to wait for. Sometimes he would voice that, other times he would not, but he would still wait.

He had said the same thing to Hungary.

She had smiled sadly at him.

Oh, but baking a cake was supposed to be easy. It was not.

The only easy part of a cake was, after finally having it, eating it.

Then it was gone.


	22. Crumble

**Crumble**

"_You used to be so big..."_

He was small. So small. Small so that those words he spoke to him could be repaid threefold. How had it happened? It only seemed like years before that he had gained his independence.

Certainly he was as outspoken as ever. Nothing Alfred did was done halfway. It was almost as if he did not see his body wasting away.

Arthur knew this could not be true. If Alfred had not known he would not be wearing as much clothing as he was to hide how thin he had become. If Alfred had not known Arthur would not have found the self tanning lotion in the younger's ever present jacket, hiding how pale he had grown. If Alfred had not known he would be unable to avoid the subject as deftly as he had somehow learned to.

Arthur had scars in his palms where his nails cut through the skin in fury.

_I can help you Alfred,_ Arthur had begged him._ Please, please let me help you._

_I can fix myself! _The younger had exclaimed. _I'm fine!_

That was his answer to everything. He was fine. Arthur wondered whether it was because it had been so long since someone had asked him how he was. Alfred did not know how to deal with it. He was fine, he would say. That was all he knew to say.

_I'm fine._

Arthur would back away. He would allow Francis to bandage his hands, talking about Matthew, but Arthur could not quite hear it.

Toris was found dead and Arthur waited for Alfred to respond. He would, he had to. Alfred cared.

He spoke. He always did. Arthur confronted him and he was still in denial. But no longer sullen.

Defeated.

Feliciano made another excuse as to why Ludwig was not at the meeting. Roderich's shoulders constantly twitched, hiding those great sobs, trying to hide the empty chair next to him.

Alfred sat next by him, calling Kiku to make certain the other was going to arrive.

No, he was not.

And the death of that nation was the end of it.

Matthew had broken down, crying into Arthur's arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred leave. Arthur could not track him down until it was too late.

_I said yes. I told him yes. It's over now._

Ivan had such a smile on his face, fingers twined in Alfred's hair.

Arthur could have screamed.

But Alfred was right.

Suddenly everything was better.


	23. Range

**Range**

**Notes:**

_bass –_ It was a little beyond his reach. Not that he ever cared to hit that low.

_baritone –_ Occasionally he could hit here. Only if he had not talked the previous day. Something about talking meant his throat hurt when he tried to hit here.

_tenor –_ This was his range. The best range, anyways. People liked this range the most.

_alto – _This was his brother's normal range. Unless he was complaining. Or screaming.

_mezzo-soprano – _Then he would reach here. The other complained and screamed a lot.

_soprano – _Never. Not even a chance of his brother doing it. Ha!

**End Notes**

Spain stroked Romano's hair and a high pitched whine escaped him.

Not all sopranos would be impressed.

But Spain certainly was.


	24. FightFlight

**Fight/Flight**

Germany was very good at fighting. War was his specialty.

Italians were good at running away.

Unless the battlefield was his own choosing. Then it was Germany running away. Not that he would ever admit it.

"Stay where you are," Germany demanded. After all, if Veneziano stayed put, there would be no need to move from where he was.

"But _Germany..._" the other drew out the words like syrup. The sweet, sticky syrup Germany knew he would drown in if he tasted it. And _how_ he wanted to taste it.

That was not the point. The point was he should not._ Could_ not.

There was no staying, as the space between them was closed in and those hands were trailing up to his shoulders.

"Don't you–" Italy's lips cut off his words.

The flight instinct rose up.

But Germany's pride kept him from running.

So did the taste of the syrup he was drowning in.


	25. Acid

**Acid**

"Day ten, they started."

Confessional. Do not see the person behind the curtain. Do not see the other person saying these words. Germany did not want to.

He already knew.

"Pour it into the eyes. The ears. Down their throats..."

Germany's knuckles turned white. He listened.

"They only used three prisoners that day."

Only.

"It only took an hour."

Only.

"Fourteen thousand and five hundred people per class. Fourteen thousand and five hundred torturers."

That many...

"Three per class... how many classes?"

Germany stayed quiet. He heard.

There was no more words. He was crying.

Germany knew the other did not want comfort. It would be too much to bring himself to think someone else would want to comfort him.

"How many? Damn it..."

And so America cried.

Germany remembered.

* * *

_This information comes from the diary of a CIA torture student which I found on the Mind Control Forums, CIA Torture Facilities._


	26. Colour

**Color**

Light and dark, black to white.

He wears purple under the light

under the dark

when he wears anything at all.

Dark and light, white to black.

Their blue combined often would lack

and the other would spark,

into another battle they would fall.

Black and white, dark to light.

Green he would wear before the fight

but when he would loose it would be gone

and he would find himself alone, oh his poor mademoiselle.

White and black, light to dark.

His yellow light made its mark

while he would watch the other, face drawn,

again and again watch the attempted spell.

White and black, light to dark.

In orange he would find himself embark

on the task he thought he had thrown

away to wolves when it was only a game.

Black and white, dark to light.

Covered in red, both knew it was not right

and yet for what else would they moan

when neither could accept the other's name.

Dark and light, white to black.

He watched the other weep in black

and felt nothing

for he was so tired of grieving.

Light and dark, black to white.

He kissed him to get beyond the fright

but the other gave him nothing.

Still yet France had no thoughts of leaving.

He would make his own chances

in the

dark and the light.

The black and the white.

* * *

_I believe colours have their own universal meaning which do not have to be said._


	27. Give

**Give**

"Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am," America said. It was sort of a stupid question. America was always sure about what he was doing. Canada tried to think whether _he_ was sure about this. He was still coming up with an 'I'm not sure' sign in his head. With flashing lights and signs pointing to other places. Sort of like Las Vegas, actually. But that was American.

"You shouldn't have put them in that icebox, eh."

"And let them melt?"

"You packed them tight enough. It didn't take too long to get here. Maybe–"

America did not let Canada finish his sentence. Up went the snowball. Canada winced as he heard the sound of breaking glass cut through the air.

Followed by the sound of an irritated country.

"You stupid kids get off my lawn! If I have to – America! I should have known! You broke my window, you ass!"

"Did you put a rock in it too?"

"Come on!"

America pulled Canada into the bushes. Canada found himself uncomfortably squished under the other, but on the plus side he had a perfect view of the front door.

If there is a plus side to being a pancake.

"You bloody American!"

It was quiet for a few moments before Canada saw the front door being opened.

"-and when I get my hands on you–"

England's words cut off, seeing the lovingly wrapped present on his porch. He just seemed to stare at it for a while.

"Is he going to pick it up?"

"America, _shh_!"

England did pick it up and returned inside. Canada tried to push his glassed back up his nose. _That_ was not what they expected to happen.

"Why'd he go inside?" America moaned. Canada tried to shove the other off of him.

"I told you this was a bad idea, eh!"

"No you didn't! All you said was 'are you sure it's a good idea?'!"

"Which even you must have realized showed how uncertain I was!"

"**Get off my property!"**

Both America and Canada squeaked, scrambling over each other and running from the area. England stood where they had been, a smile on his face and wrapping paper in hand.

"Those crazy kids..."

* * *

_In the US and Canada Mother's day was on May 10th, but for England it was all the way back on March 22nd. So place it whether you think they would remember that._

_Of course, it is so much funnier to think of England angsting on Mother's Day every year because Canada and America do not say anything (not that he is their mother, damn it!) and then trying not to act pleased when he does get something._

_I know he is their big brother, but it is much funnier to call him their mother. I think I get too much of a kick out of England being called a woman._

_For so many reasons._


	28. Needle

**Needle**

She usually did not mind sewing. She even liked it. It was a wonderful past time and something she could even talk to England about.

Even if he would get defensive about the subject.

She could spend some time with Liechtenstein, trying to pry out information about Switzerland from the other girl. The boy was just so cute, especially how he obviously adored Liechtenstein! It made her wish for the days when she was older sister to Veneziano.

But that brought things back to sewing.

And the single person who could place a needle in her hand and make it a task instead of fun.

Hungary stared at Austria's sock. She was certain none of the material was what the sock was originally made from. The oldest piece which gave out was from the eighteenth century, at the latest.

Hell, she was going to buy him new socks.

So she set the old ones on fire.

That'll teach him for making her mend too often.


	29. Locks

**Locks**

Never judge a lock by its appearance. More people knew that saying by the book, but he begged to differ.

After all, he had such a wonderful lock to judge by.

It looked like a straight one-key lock. A decorated brass plate, circle in shape, with only four depressions. It was his pride and joy, from 1922. No one would be able to get anything out of him again.

Switzerland placed all of this prized possessions inside with the knowledge he would not have to worry about them again.

Then _he_ came.

"Hey, Switzerland... I wanted to apologize for earlier and, uh... Hey! What's that!"

"My newest lock," Switzerland admitted, not as grudgingly as he had hoped.

"Kind of... plain, isn't it?"

Switzerland was glad he thought so.

"You owe me some money, y'know. No rush or anything! This brass plate is pretty."

Switzerland felt with dread what he was going to have to give up.

His house felt somewhat empty, with what he had to give Italy, but Switzerland was little affected. He admired two keys and his alphabetical bank dial and knew what he had, what was most important, was safe.

Even if these meetings were becoming irritating. Did Japan have to agree with everything America said?

There was a knock on the door.

"Pardon for intruding. You owe me some money."

Switzerland looked irritably at his keys and his lock.

Eighty one years and it was relatively useless. When there was nothing in your bank, there was no need for a lock.

* * *

_One of Switzerland's most interesting locks from 1922. To open the __bank key is inserted __and turned clockwise. Next __the client key__ is put into the same keyhole, also turned clockwise. The four depressions open, revealing little shafts. Next is the 22-letter__ alphabetical bank dial__ which is inserted in each of the four holes successively, turning each to a letter of the four-letter code. Finally, the client key is turned the rest of the way. There were 50 moving parts in this lock._

_Switzerland joined the UN in 2002._

_In 2001 and 2002, Switzerland had to pay 30 to 35 billion euros worth of deposits to Italy. In 2003, Germany put up a similar amnesty to Switzerland._


	30. Slope

**Slope**

_I don't need him anymore, I can support myself, I am me._

"What's wrong, little brother?"

She would hug him to her for a moment, one wonderful moment when she believes she can help. Then she remembers she was not supposed to be around him and pushes herself away. But it is too late.

It was easy to catch symptoms of depression. 40% of them, to be exact.

She cries because it is her first reaction. She thinks, of course she thinks, but her body instantly produces these tears before she is allowed to think further on the matter.

Leaving little brother was supposed to fix this. She locks herself in her house to remind herself of this. Make money.

_Little brother, I will pay you for the gas. I will! But until then..._

She is a leech, but in no way is she as good as it as Lithuania. Oh, she knew the other country could get away with so much with a slight stutter in his voice. Little brother had been so cruel to him and he was easily cowed.

Did know about his image? Did he use that image on purpose?

"Hello!" she would try to say cheerfully. Her Western neighbors look at each other nervously and scoot away. She sits there happily, tears running down her face.

State controlled industry was almost as bad of a plague as the depression, she decides.

"'ow you doin' gal?"

Ukraine turns to see Australia and smiles.

_Will he run away too?_

He thinks she is beautiful.

* * *

_1991, Ukraine delcared independence from Russia. But in 1998 Russia had a financial crisis. 40% of Ukraine's foreign trade came from Russia and so was hit hard by that. And everyone who read Ukraine's introduction will know about paying for the gas. Still having a Soviet-era economy most of the industries were still run by the state, which meant Western countries did not want to get involved with Ukraine. Australia did not have the same problem though, signing a treaty with Ukraine in 1998. They have a growing relationship, 2003 Ukraine opening an embassy in Canberra._


	31. Correspondence

**Correspondence**

**-wayd?-**

The phone vibrated against his leg. Japan glanced about himself and gently removed his cell phone from his pocket, glancing at it from under the table.

**-I am in a meeting.-**

Neither of them had to pay for letters and it took Japan a while to realize what the letters meant.

**-boring u shld come here.-**

Nice to know he tried at times. Japan glanced towards the person presenting and then towards his boss. It seemed no one had noticed yet.

**-It certainly would be better than being here. This man is not as good speaking my language as he believes.-**

**-rlly? nvr have tht prob here-**

Japan shifted his shoulders back as if he were really paying attention to what he was supposed to be doing.

**-It is more obvious in your language when someone is saying something wrong. I wonder whether this man is actually saying what he wants and we should have thrown him out a while ago.-**

**-cwot. come over.-**

**-I can't, America.-**

**-wru wearing?-**

Japan stared at the screen for a while, fighting the blush which was threatening to overcome him.

**-what?-**

**-Wearing. What?-**

America _could_ spell, if he wanted to make his point clear. Japan looked at the mirror on the wall and moved his phone correspondingly.

***sending pic***

**-nice. ukw? U shld wear tht HERE.-**

Japan tried not to laugh.

**-You mean wear this when I come over?-**

**-i mean COME OVER.-**

Japan saw that his boss was loosing patience. And that man had the patience of a god. Japan tried not to bite his lip.

**-Be there soon.-**

**-ilu-**

**-I love u 2.-

* * *

**

_For those like me who have no idea about text messaging short hand, this guide is for you!_

_wayd – what are you doing? cwot – complete waste of time. wru – what are you... ukw – you know what?_

_I think I got them all. Everything else is the original word simply being butchered._


	32. Linger

**Linger**

He had gone.

He had come back.

He was no longer here.

He was still here.

When was he here?

All of those could be true. But he simply remembered, swirling the noodles around a fork, sitting across from the other.

"_I've always, always loved you."_

How pretty such words can be. How meaningful. But how meaningful were they when after being said they were never heard again?

His heart had been broken.

They say one only experiences true love once. One can have enough love for so many people, but they can only truly love once. That made no sense.

"_I'll always love you more than anyone in the world!"_

One cannot love that much again. Just cannot.

"Hey! Ludwig! Hey! _Heeeyyy!_"

He clung to him.

"I love you."

Because for some reason, he loved again.

"I know, Feliciano. I know."

But this time, no matter what happened, he would never let him go.

* * *

_I do not know whether Italy thinks of Germany as the Holy Roman Empire in this drabble or not. Just saying, it could be either way. Whatever makes you happy._


	33. Charm

**Charm**

Spain had lost track of how many he owned at this point. Only so many links could fit, after all. About eighteen. And when it went beyond that he would have to get a new bracelet.

His boss had no idea.

"Che! Why're you wearing that, bastard?" the Italian scoffed. Spain smiled.

"You gave it to me... for my birthday. Remember? Why wouldn't I be wearing it?"

The look on Romano's face was absolutely priceless. Spain was certain he could not get the other to blush nearly enough to satisfy himself. It was a treat, really.

"Letters. Letters!" he exclaimed, trying to move away as Spain pulled him in for a hug.

"So I could spell whatever I wanted," Spain said simply, kissing him on the forehead. Romano made an inaudible noise, which Spain decided to translate as 'I don't want it to be _that_, but...' *whine*

Spain kept Romano close to him, thumb running over the letters.

I - L - O - V - E - L - O - V - I - N - O

* * *

_I used to have an actual heart there instead of the word love, but apparently it was too bloody for the site to comprehend. Anyone know if it is possible to make those shapes stay?_


	34. Roads

**Roads**

"_America does not go abroad in search of monsters to destroy. She is the well-wisher to freedom and independence of all. She is the champion and vindicator only of her own."_

– _John Quincy Adams

* * *

_

He was something new. Something beyond what anyone else could have even imagined. Few tried copying his lead, but they could not.

America would have given them tips, but they were at loathe to take any from him. So he would smile and continue doing as he was before, which was to take their people away from them. He simply offered and they would come to collect. Collect opportunity. Collect chance.

Then with all of their choices they would love him.

America liked being loved. All he needed was his people.

Other countries were unlikely to display the same fondness. It would be hypocritical of them to do so at all, and even more so to the United States of America.

So what if his actions benefited only himself? It was the same thing as any country would do. They would act with the end factor being themselves as the profiters.

Except he profited in acting the hero. Only profiting himself made him a hypocrite.

No one noticed.

* * *

"_My fellow Americans, I am pleased to tell you I just signed legislation which outlaws Russia forever. The bombing begins in five minutes."_

–_Ronald Reagan

* * *

_

Except for Russia.

It was strange, how they changed. He knew they had opposing views. He knew the only reason they would be trying to get along was because the enemy of one's enemy was a friend... for now.

Being pleasant to him was easy. And by the look on Russia's face, the taller country was not expecting that.

But it was easy. And America could almost forget sometimes that once this war was over, so would this.

They would start another war.

"Why do this?" he asked, marked with bruises and blood as the other would stare up at the sky, almost as if unphased by the fight.

"Just because you think your road is the better one, doesn't mean it is."

"Damn Commie!"

"Dirty Capitalist!"

And they were thrown again into another fight which neither of them felt like participating in anymore.

Even after that war (_Which he had won! Won! Won, damn it..._) they were at odds. America came to forget a time when he thought the other was pleasant. Never let those thoughts get in the way, that would only make him hesitate when war could very easily break out again. Especially when small accidents could be blown out of proportion.

The nearness of a nuclear war actually occurring was more frightening then he could have ever believed.

Yet, so many years later, they would threaten each other with the possibility.

* * *

"_People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost."_

–_H. Jackson Browne

* * *

_

America knew Russia was as sick of war as he was, yet they never let up on their passion. They continued as if everyday it was new, everyday was wanted, everyday would be a victory.

Then America took the battlefield straight to Russia, tired of hearing the complaints of the other countries their battles would be housed in.

America's eyes were blurry, but he could easily see the flush of fever on the other. Despite the obvious pains each knew would keep the other from fighting well, they were again thrown headfirst into their fight.

America had forgotten how cold Russia could be. Both him and his country.

"America." Both struggled to stand. "Why are we doing this?"

"Because."

"I see."

"We have to."

"I know."

Russia cried. America found that he wanted to comfort him. But his limbs felt so heavy.

Russia was the first to fall into the snow, but America was not that far behind him. He tried to convince himself to rise back to his feet, get out of the snow.

And the fevered Russia clung to him, keeping him there. America felt even colder than before.

Russia was more than snow, he was ice. And he murmured words which might as well have been nonsense for all America could understand.

Just about the time he fell unconscious, he realized Russia was still speaking English to him.

When they were found, it was America's warmth which had kept Russia from dying. It was Russia's cold which had nearly killed America.

America smiled at England, France, and Spain and wearily said the words. He was a hypocrite now, none of them would believe him, but America no longer cared.

"It's okay. Is Russia all right? I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I don't matter."

America felt so cold.

* * *

_The first section is when America first gained his independence, up to the Second World War. The second part is the Second World War through the Cold War. The last part is completely made up._

_And about the second quote, it was during a radio test Reagan said this, but they accidentally were already on air. Things were very tense for a long while.  
_


	35. Hunger

**Hunger**

"Why don't we open the doors, aru?"

His people were screaming outside of them. "Communist Party, Chairman Mao, save us!"

Then they died.

The granaries were filled with rice and his question was answered with what was believed to be logic.

He went to different towns, staring at bodies which were just left there to die.

It had seemed like such a good idea at first, modernization. They had such great plans. Japan had done so well with that, even if he had become more Western. But if Japan could... so could he, right?

He went to talk to his boss about the problems noted in the Great Leap Forward.

"They say the dogs are taking care of the bodies."

With that, China began laughing. It shocked his boss, but the other regained his composure quickly as tears came to China's eyes.

"They aren't taking care of the bodies, aru!" He was hysterical. "We ate_ them_ _first_!"

With that, China excused himself to the restroom and threw up absolutely nothing into the sink.

* * *

_1958-1961, the Great Leap Forwards was a social and economical plan that was supposed to transform China into a modern communist society. Instead it caused millions of deaths in fammine. The could have dealt with the problem, for they had the people to harvest, but they preferred working on the modernization, which meant even the food harvested was seen in an economical light instead of to save their starving people, who would die outside of the granary doors.  
_


	36. Reciprocity

**Reciprocity**

It was easy enough to tell Lovino had missed something when it came to reciprocity. Ludwig was nice enough to him, nothing to incite the violence which easily came his way.

Of course, considering how insane Feliciano was...

But Lovino would even insult his brother without a second thought, leave him behind when Feliciano would plead for the other to stay.

Ludwig's first thought was there was a small connection missing in Lovino's head.

"We're eating with my brother and Antonio!" Feliciano told him happily. Ludwig had no idea why that would make the Italian happy, but then again nothing about Italians made sense to him. Kiku made more sense to him, and he lived on the other side of the world!

Not that Kiku made _much_ sense.

"Long time no see, Ludwig," Antonio said happily, as if Lovino was not really right next to him. Ludwig would have responded as such (as people were supposed to), but Lovino immediately scoffed.

"Did you have to bring that stupid oaf with you? Useless."

"Lovino!" Feliciano exclaimed, for some reason still surprised at his brother's vehemence. Ludwig had no idea why Feliciano just did not accept it.

"Ah, he just wanted to be the only one with arm candy, isn't that right?" Antonio said as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

Both Ludwig and Lovino spluttered.

Maybe, just _maybe_, being raised by Antonio forced Lovino to have that personality to survive.

Although it would have been easier if he had just gone along with it.

But Ludwig could not say anything, Feliciano caught him off guard all the time and he never went along with it. Well, sometimes.

And fighting off the Spaniard was something Ludwig had to somewhat admire. It appeared to be difficult and Lovino fought on. Though since it was so obvious Lovino wanted it, it did not make...

But Ludwig did the same thing. It still did not make any sense.

And being called a potato head was getting annoying.

* * *

_I write this with respects that Ludwig is a bit of a hypocrite. And I do not think anyone else has compared him with Lovino before._


	37. Kind

**Kind**

"H'llo."

"Oh! Um... hi?"

It was a constant reaction. Sweden was not exactly certain what caused it. After all, once entering the UN, he figured it would be good to start some friendly international relationships. Which did not seem to be going well.

For some reason they would all move away from him. Starting the Nordic Council did not make him feel much better.

"F'nl'nd?"

"What is it Su-san?"

He sidled over, looking away from the other. It was sort of embarrassing to ask. He had waited to see if the other would join, but as it was standing, Finland did not even seem to be thinking about it.

"W'nna c'me w' me t' the n'xt UN m'tin'?"

"Sure!"

Sweden was happy. Finland sat next to him and chattered on. It did not matter that the other countries were still edgy around him, for whatever reason.

"M'ybe... w'nna c'me w' me t' my C'ncil?"

"Sure!"

Sweden was even happier. And when the fancy struck him, he decided to ask Finland to come with him when he finally decided to attend a EU meeting. Because he knew Finland would say yes.

* * *

_Sweden joined the UN in 1946 and the Nordic Council in 1953. Then Finland joined the UN in 1955 and the Nordic Council in the following year. Finally, both of them joined the EU in 1995._


	38. Fruity

**Fruity**

"West!"

Whatever Germany had been expecting, it had not been an apple in his face. Gloved hands coming up, trying to push it away.

"Eat it!"

"What the hell are you doing, East?"

"It's Prussia, damn it!"

A small scuffled ensued, ending up with Prussia taking Germany's seat and Germany on the ground.

"Where'd the apple go?" Prussia questioned, looking around. Germany rose to his feet, the perfect picture of anger.

"Gilbert!"

Germany was quite proud of the small squeak he made escape the other.

Unfortunately, he had to go back to work.

"West!"

"Wh–"

And the applesauce left the ladle and nailed him straight in the face.

"_**East!"**_

"It's Prussia, damn it!"

Germany was glad no one believed this was a daily routine.

* * *

_After all, who would beleive Germany gets fruit stuck in his face everyday? I would not. This is not based on anything but what my mind came up with. I apologize._


	39. HalfLife

**Half-Life**

He did not know when he stopped seeing them. They had become flighty around him recently, not wanting to spend any time with him if he was in the room with another. He understood this, they would not want to see people who had long since forsaken them. But it had not bothered them before, making other people think he was insane while talking to them. No other country could see them!

Now England could not either.

Had they left him, or had he lost the ability like the others?

He still believed.

But the magic was gone.

He felt empty.


	40. Comedy of Errors

**Comedy of Errors**

"Hello?"

"This is Kiku, Alfred."

"Hey! What's up?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I had offended you."

"Huh? What?"

"You ran away."

"Ran away from what?"

"Me."

_Shortly before..._

When Matthew had arrived in town, he had expected some trouble. The trouble was the kind he was used to, however, the 'finding-twin-brother-who-he-had-been-separated-from-birth-from'. What he had not expected was to suddenly find himself dragged to a party and told to confess his feelings to another guy!

"Eh... what?" he swallowed.

"Look," said the other, an Englishman, of whom Matthew was not certain his name. Someone said it earlier, but he had been unable to hear it. He did have some big eyebrows though, which reminded Matthew of something his father said. "I am getting sick of hearing you complaining about this. Either you tell him, or I'm doing it for you. Either way, no more complaining out of you."

"But–"

"Have it your way, Alfred."

"Wait!" Matthew exclaimed as the other man walked across the room. He had the feeling that he had made someone's life much more difficult.

"Oh, it's you."

"Eh?" Matthew turned to see someone. He looked Russian. Russian and not happy to see him.

"Um, Alfred," said another man, obviously Japanese, making his way to him.

"I'm not Alfred!" he shouted, before running away. Whoever this Alfred was had a lot of gall to look exactly like him! What the hell?

"Hey Alfred!"

Matthew found himself grabbed and pulled away by a Chinese man before he could protest. Matthew was beginning to wonder whether he was actually this Alfred fellow and whether he had just gone stark crazy.

Let alone this town was really multicultural.

* * *

_Anyone want me to do a big story with this idea? Based on Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors. Whether you want me to or not, I probably will. M__atty being confused for Alfred all the time was just asking for it._


	41. Tragedy

**Tragedy**

"...nothing is making sense anymore..."

"Don't. Please... just listen."

"Listening. Better make it quick."

"You shouldn't do anything right now, Arthur. Please. You're drunk. You need to take–"

"Bored."

He hung up the phone and buried his face into his hands. The phone fell off the receiver.

"I don't know when I stopped making him smile," he said to the phone. Arthur wondered where Francis was.

It did not matter. Arthur remembered him last being in Paris. So far away.

Matthew had gone to Toronto, right? Or had he come back? Arthur had no idea, he was no longer the one gone to whenever the other needed to talk to someone. Even farther away.

And Alfred was at college. In California. He would not hear about this until...

Well, it did not matter.

He pulled out the bottle and shook it. The pills remaining clattered. The beginning of the conversation consisted of Francis trying to convince him to take his dose for the day, but Arthur was not in the mood to listen.

What was the point? This was who he was, right now. If he had to take mind altering drugs just to want to live...

It did not matter. That made no sense. He was only another year older and making nothing of himself.

The phone rang again. Arthur set down the bottle next to the receiver picked up his brandy and headed outside. It was not far to the cliffs. Arthur had always loved heights. He had also always wondered what it would be like to fly.

"Mom!"

He stared down at the ground, so far away, and considered what he felt like doing. Taking a sip from the bottle, he realized he was being called.

"Mom!"

He turned to see the person he had not expected to see for months. That he had not expected to see again.

"Alfred?"

His foot slipped.

"_**Don't!**_"

Gravity was all there was. Then... a hand. Far below, there was the sound of the glass hitting the rock. Arthur was not even certain what had happened anymore. But he was pulled back up and held tight by the other.

"Oh my God... _oh my God..._"

Arthur was faintly aware of the repetitive words being murmured in his ear. He could see lights in the driveway, followed by the sound of a car door slamming shut and calling voices.

"You're supposed to be at school," he managed to say. It was all he could say. What else could be said that mattered right now? Arthur could not convince himself otherwise.

He was crying as the other two ran to them.

Why would he want to leave them?

Arthur did not know. He still felt broken.

* * *

_Based on Tori Amos' Maybe California._

_Anyone who tells someone with clinical depression just to cheer up simply does not understand. Common sense is trampled. It is worse than any phobia, because it does not always have a trigger. Imagine feeling like you are worthless for days on end. It is difficult to deal with them, but you try anyways. Because if it gets bad..._

_Just be glad I could not go through with killing him. I almost just left it right at '_His foot slipped_' but I wanted this story to end up with a chance of a happy ending, even if I have not written it. Just to imagine things being pieced together. Damn, now I want to write more with this. I just came up with so many other ideas, like the argument between Arthur and Alfred when Alfred said he wanted to study abroad and where the family stands in general... for as you know, Arthur and Francis have gotten together so many times._

_Arthur is an adorable mother. When I am not writing him depressed, that is. What DF and I discuss turns out pretty good though. In fact, I blame you for this, DF. Hope you are happy. Or depressed, considering the story._


	42. Hope is the Thing with Feathers

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers**

"_**Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal."**_

He moved through the crowd, relatively unnoticed. This was something he did not mind. All eyes were on the one speaking, including his own. His own stained face, currently dry, turned towards his President. The first time he heard these words and they already sounded perfect.

America was tired. Now he was not.

"_**Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure."**_

It was there America stopped, returning the gaze which was given to him. A small smile on the other's lips. In this moment, America could almost forget his President was only Human. That in a hundred years he would be long since buried. Now, right now, he seemed timeless.

"_**We are met on a great battle-field of that war."**_

He wondered if his President could see the pride in his eyes. Pride in these words, pride in this person.

"_**We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live."**_

Oh, but to be reminded of the people he had killed. America's gaze dropped as he continued his path through the crowd, their rapt attention giving him the privacy he needed, if only for a moment. He was there, he saw the bodies. He had seen them while they were still people. He had seen the look on the other America's face, a flash of anger as the Confederates failed her.

"_**It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this."**_

He was the victor, but they were the dead.

He watched a different flock, no similar problems, as they flew away.

"_**But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate – we can not consecrate – we can not hallow – this ground."**_

For a second, he found it difficult to breathe. America wondered whether something else had happened, or whether it was just the words here. He made it in front of the crowd though, to the side. No one's eyes were on him, but he realized they were paying him just as avid as an attention as they were their President.

He was always on stage, no matter who truly was speaking. The words were spoken for him. They were spoken for him as they were for his people.

As they were the free. They would be and they would stay that way.

"_**The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract."**_

Belittling himself, no. Showing the true importance of actions with words making people who might think themselves common just as important.** We the People...**

"_**The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here."**_

America would make certain.

"_**It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced."**_

And here they went again.

"_**It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us – that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion – that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain – that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."**_

He made his way to Abraham Lincoln, tears running down his face once more. But he did not try and stop him. He did not kneel, he reached forwards and grasped his hand.

"You are my President."

He stared up at the other.

"I always stand at your side."

They both smiled.

"Together, no one can deny our Freedom."

* * *

_Abraham Lincoln and his Gettysburg Address._


	43. Empire

**Empire**

Stepping off of the ship and on to the new land, England inhaled the air of a new land. Well, not as new, but of a land newly his.

"I claim this land!" he said giddily. An outraged cry followed that statement and before England could do more than turn to see who it was, the other nation was already walking towards him.

"Hey! You can't claim my land! I live here!"

"Do you have a flag?" England asked. He had readied this excuse up a while ago. It was water proof, really. Everyone else in Europe agreed to it, after all, so it must have been right!

"I don't need a flag, this is my land! I'm a country!" India exclaimed.

"No flag, no country, you can't have one!" England scoffed. "That's the rules I've just made up." And he was going to back it up. With a gun.

Guns usually worked.

India seemed to agree with that, albeit with irritation. "Hey, calm down," he waved his hands down. "We can talk this out."

And by the end of the few hundred years England could not turn without hearing India talk, he regretted taking India's house.

* * *

_Actually, it was a little more subtle than this, but I could not resist using Eddie Izzard. So there you go._


	44. Turpentine Kisses and Mistaken Blows

**Turpentine Kisses and Mistaken Blows**

She came to him so often. He knew why. She was alone, she wanted a friend, and for the life of her she was not exactly certain how to do this. Such a long period of time giving in to her younger brother had made such a toll on Ukraine.

Australia planned on changing that.

"Try some vegemite, 'ere ya go." Ukraine giggled as he handed the toast over.

"What is it?" she questioned, staring at the spread. Australia leaned over and put a hand over her eyes.

"Jist open wide."

Oh, she was so accepting. So trusting. Australia knew how easily she could have been taken advantage of. But he did not want to do that. He wanted to become her friend. So as they sat under the Turpentine tree, he resisted the impulse to kiss those smiling lips, tried not to watch the tongue peek out from between them to lick off the food which had smeared over them.

He had plenty of chances that he did not take. He knew she would be willing. But he also knew that willingness came from a longing to belong, to befriend. Australia wanted to be more than that.

So he waited to kiss her until so much more later. It was at a UN meeting and she had finally spoken up. She never did. It surprised him. No one else even noticed. Her words were about to be run over when Australia made a scene about it. Just so they would hear her words.

"Thank you," she said, afterward. Her hands were clasped in front of her, tears in her eyes. He leaned over and kissed her. She responded.

So did another.

Australia barely had time to process what happened when he felt the fist drive into his stomache, a knee drive into his back, and every other place that was beginning to be hit.

"Brother, brother!" he could hear Ukraine scream. "He's a friend! _He's a friend!_ Stop!"

Russia did stop. "Just a friend?" he specified, still holding Australia off the ground. Australia could almost laugh, but it came out sounding like a gurgle. Just a friend... How he had wanted to change that.

"Yes, yes!" Ukraine was crying. She was always crying. It was Russia's fault. Australia would do anything to change that.

Almost anything. There were those things he could not do. Like destroy Russia. But she would not want that anyway. Though why, he could not guess. She was too nice, too sweet. And Russia exploited that.

He was dropped the ground and she rushed over to him.

"'m 'kay," he assured her. He could hear Russia saying something else.

But she only cried.

His pain was worth the kiss. But her pain was not.

* * *

_There are a lot of Ukrainian immigrants in Australia. They make up at least 0.16% of the population. In 1978 the schools in Ukrainian communities began teaching the Ukrainian language._

_The Australian accent did not translate well when I tried to write it down. I apologize and if anyone who has actually been to Australia and can give me any pointers, I would be glad to take them._

_And yes, I have turned Ukraine and Australia into one of my OTPs. Expect to read more with them sometime. Once I have learned more about them, of course. I wish to do no disservice to any country._


	45. Rings

**Rings**

When Japan heard the ring tone from his cell phone, he almost did not pick up. He knew if he did something big would happen. After all, America was all for big. And Japan simply wanted to relax.

Against his better judgment, he picked it up anyways. "Moshi moshi."

"You want to see the rings of Saturn?"

"America?"

"Do you want to see the rings of Saturn?" the other persisted. Japan stared up at the bright sky. A moments thought reminded him that it must be nighttime at America's house.

"I was going to see them. Apparently they are supposed to be very clear tonight."

"See them with me! I haven't even looked up yet."

Japan almost declined, but found himself saying yes. He was to meet America at the Old Saint Hilary Church and climb up Ring Mountain.

Why had he said yes? He was too old for this.

"This is a strange place to meet," he admitted. America looked liked a puppy, trying and failing to contain his excitement. "And time." Japan was wide awake, it was only about six o'clock for him. Did that mean it was two here? So late for the other.

"Come on!" America grinned. "I think it's perfect." Japan looked around, light from the moon giving some semblance of sight. He noticed America was not looking at the mountain, but at him.

Allowing the other to give him a hug, they headed up, America leading the way.

That was when it hit him. _He would not... would he?_

"You can move faster than that!" America taunted from further up the mountain. Japan was not certain he wanted to reach America's destination, but was not about to be oneuped by the younger nation.

"How far up do you expect us to travel up this mountain in the dark?" he questioned, resting against a rock. He could just barely make out a frown on America's face and shook his head.

"Just look up."

Japan did. He took the small telescope America offered him. For whatever reason that the scientists had come up with, Saturn's rings were very visible. He felt movement next to him and resolved not to look at America.

He did anyways.

"America... you can't do this."

America looked somewhat hurt. "Why not?"

"Your boss can't have agreed to this."

"He doesn't know."

_That_ surprised Japan. America was impulsive, but this sort of a thing... Even America could not have done this without thought. Really, there was no way America's President could not have known...

He kissed America. America still looked so expectant, it almost hurt Japan to speak.

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

America shut his eyes and sighed, sitting on the rock next to Japan. Japan wished he could say something to make him feel better, but he felt just as put out. He could almost hear America's unspoken words. '_It's not fair._' It was not.

"Take the ring anyways."

"But America..."

"It's for you. So take it."

Japan kissed him again. If only they were not the embodiment of politics...

Oh, he wished he could say yes.

* * *

_I really pulled out from the bottom of the prompt for this. Saturn's rings, ring tone... Old Saint Hilary Church is situated at the flank of Ring Mountain in California. And, of course, that last ring._


	46. Dust

**Dust**

_Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis._

Each flick of his wrist, as the feathers would sweep over a surface and leave it cleared from the specs previously inhabiting the space.

He did not know why it bothered him. He always had to do this. Not that it was his job, per say, but in the end the other had never done much of the cleaning and he always had to finish up. So dusting was nothing new to him.

_Uno, dos, tres. Cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve. Diez._

He remembered when he used to be upset that his charge would not do the work he had set out for him. He was busy, he had hoped that having someone help at home would make things easier.

It did not.

He remembered becoming angry once.

The child had been scared. So he promised himself never to loose his temper again.

_Uno. _Count to ten. _Dos. _Do not get mad. _Tres. _He had not had to count for some time. _Cuatro. _The other was too cute. _Cinco. _He was no longer ever angry at him. _Seis. _Now Romano was gone. _Siete. _But now he counted. _Ocho. _To keep himself from screaming at dust. _Nueve._ Because there was no one to scream at now.

_Diez._

The house was too empty.

Of all but the dust of places now undisturbed.

_Uno._


	47. Every You, Every Me

**Every You, Every Me**

He would watch his blood run down into the drain.

"I'm sorry, so very sorry."

It was his own fault, really. He should have known better.

"Will you ever forgive me?"

His eyes turned towards the shower door. The silhouette showed the large stature of the other. But it was not because of that he was not going to run.

"Please say something. Anything. What can I do?"

Sometimes it was hard to tell what he was saying. When his accent became thick enough. Forgetting himself once more.

"Vat vell Ee do vizout yoo?"

He would forget that he was sorry. When he became angry again he would forget this. And the cycle would repeat. He would match up with this again. They would be here again. And the other was sorry.

"Sorry..."

He opened the door. "I'll never leave you Russia, eh."

Russia smiled.


	48. Project

**Project**

"You need to try harder!"

"Listen to Germany, Italy. This is not a game here."

"Ah... yes."

**Germany and Japan are doing so much.**

"Italy! Don't just stand there and do nothing!"

"It is time to move forwards. Please do not hold us up."

"Okay! Ve..."

**I have to do well too.**

"We have come far, my friend. You see how we improve?"

"I see."

**Is this wrong?**

"Kill all. Burn all. Loot all."

**France and England and the others are only fighting to stop us, not for anything else.**

"Hey, America, England... um..."

**Maybe... I should say something. I sh...**

"You should have told me what was going on with your people!"

**I have to try harder. Germany says so.**

"Okay, Germany!"

* * *

_Order of speech is Germany, Japan, Italy; Germany, Japan, Italy; Japan, Italy; Japan; Italy; Germany; Italy._

_The amount of war crimes committed by Germany and Japan is unbelievable. It is like the Italians were not even trying.  
_

"_Kill all, burn all, loot all" were the words spoken by Emperor Hirohito telling the Japanese soldiers what to do to the Chinese with their Scorched Earth strategy. They killed more than 2.7 million Chinese._

_Mussolini had been arrested by __King Victor Emmanuel III, who started negotiating with the Allied Forces. Then the Germans stepped in and put Mussolini back in power. Italy was Germany's puppet state._


	49. Adore

**Adore**

_Hello! Germany told me to write down what I was thinking. He says it will help me concentrate. I don't know what he means. Germany says to write like I'm talking to someone. But books don't talk! And if I am going to talk, it would be to Germany!_

_Maybe this has something to do with him telling me to be quiet. He works too hard! I can't let my Germany work too hard, he just gets tired._

_My Germany. I like writing that. My Germany my Germany my Germany my Germany._

_This is fun!_

_Germany Germany Germany._

_I love Germany._

_I love to hug my Germany, but I love it more when he hugs me back. He doesn't do that often._

_Even less since we've had to start working._

_It makes me sad._

_I wonder if he would hug me more if I kissed him more. Germany tends to kiss less than he is hugged, but if I increase one, won't the other increase too?_

_It's like making fractions equal each other! Denominator increases, the other one has to increase. What was it called again?_

_Germany would know. Germany needs to eat less wurst. He'll turn into a wurst and I don't know if I'd want to kiss him then. Of course, he says the same thing about me with pasta, but Germany likes pasta! I know, I got him to say so once. So it's not the same thing at all!_

_I~_

"Can I talk now?" Italy asked as Germany picked up the paper. Germany did not respond and Italy was instantly bored. "Germany~! It's time for lunch! We should go out, ne?

"Numerator." Germany's face had gone red.

"Wha?"

"Numerator and denominator." Germany handed it back and Italy looked back down at his paper. Then back at Germany.

"What do you think? Would it work? If I kissed Germany more often, Germany'd hug me more often, right?"

Germany tried his best not to look at him, but Italy got his answer. So he went over to kiss Germany.

* * *

_Making up for the last chapter..._


	50. Murmur

**Murmur**

Sometimes, it was too quiet. Back then, he remembered, there were less people. Less established places. Less of _them_.

"Vash... what are you doing?"

It was whispered, but in the otherwise empty room his voice almost seemed to echo.

"Waiting." The other child grinned, staring out the window.

"For what?" he looked out the window just to see the outside. Maybe there was more sound out there.

"Don't tell anyone."

"Who would I tell?"

"Dunno."

Vash stayed quiet for a while before responding. Both of them continued to look out the window.

"I think there's another one of us now. I thought I saw him."

"Could you hear him?"

Vash looked at him strangely. Roderich could not understand why.

He would rather hear.

* * *

_I read something about these two being friends when they were little, but have yet to read much history with them yet. So this is not historically based, just Hetalia based. I will try and find who the third person I stuck in there actually is, maybe change this a bit later when I can find some history to read. Anyone who knows anything, feel free to give me a history lesson!  
_


	51. Chime

**Chime**

Another new year. By this point no one was complaining about coming to another one of America's parties. Except for England.

"Same procedure as every year," Germany grumbled as he did every year, Veneziano clinging to his arm.

As he did every year.

Sweden had gotten Finland to watch "Dinner for One" with him. He had also stolen one of France's heart shaped ice creams for the other, not that Finland knew it was not originally his.

"Freddie Frinton never grows old!" Finland said happily. Austria murmured some agreement from where he was watching as well, eating cake. Hungary was wondering whether she should humor Austria and continue to sit in his lap or do something else.

France shut the closet door. He had not really needed to know both Romano and Spain wore red underwear.

Hungary went to the closet.

Poland was now drinking an eighth glass of champagne, despite Lithuania's protests.

"You're going to be a nightmare going home," Lithuania sighed.

"I'm not, like, gonna wait until going home, baby," Poland giggled as he advanced on the other.

Russia was still handing out presents. He deliberately forgot America, but America had not seemed to notice.

"And here's yours!" he shoved one into Belarus' hands and ran away as fast as the tall man could go. He decided he would probably need Vodka to deal with the rest of the party.

China was complaining how they still had a few weeks to go yet, but the only one listening was the polite Liechtenstein. He had been talking to Hong Kong, but Hong Kong was too busy looking at the night lights.

Korea had not overly minded, but he was busy arguing with Vietnam what hour the Lunar New Year started.

"I invented the New Year!"

Canada and India were busy discussing why they really had to convince America to take them to a live concert instead.

Japan was absently ringing his bell. He was on ring fifty eight, but he did not quite remember that. America had introduced him to a tradition at midnight he had not quite gotten over yet.

And England was drinking.

"_Should auld acquaintance be forgot..._"

England groaned. He knew his older brother was going to call him and laugh at him for taking his song. Of course, it was hard to hear the song when America was chattering away in his ear. Of course, England's comebacks had been failing miserably.

"_Stand beside... **her!** And guide **her!**_"

"Says the _Motherland_."

England's eyes were almost as wide as his eyebrows. "What?"

"Um... 'says the Motherland'," America blinked.

"God damn America!" England buried his face into his arms.

"Actually, it's 'God Bless America', but you're drunk and I'll forgive you."

* * *

"_Same procedure as every year" is a punch line from the comedy sketch "Dinner for One". It is a catch phrase in Germany. People of Germany, Austria, Sweden, Finland, Norway, and the Faroe Islands watch the old West German cult classic every New Year's Eve. Oh Germany, you are soooo funny!_

_In Spain it is said that wearing red underwear on New Year's Eve will bring good luck. And everyone knows Romano copies many Spanish traditions. So does Mexico. Being occupied by another country can do that._

_People in Poland drinks a glass of champagne exactly at midnight and raising toast for luck in the upcoming year._

_All of the countries formally known as the Soviet Union are known for giving out presents in the New Year. It is seen as taboo to forget someone you associate with while gift giving._

_Hong Kong people usually go out to Central, Causeway Bay and Tsim Sha Tsui to look at the night lights in the harbor._

_The Vietnamese New Years is celebrated on the same day as China, Japan, and Korea's, though exceptions arise due to the one-hour time difference between Hanoi and Beijing._

_Events in India are sporting contests and mules races and **live concerts** and dances by bollywood stars. Canadians also likes music in their celebrations._

_Buddhist temples in Japan ring their bell 108 times starting at midnight. And Americans like kissing people to start the New Year to ensure affections and ties with each other for the next twelve months._

_And Auld Lang Syne is a Scottish song. Ha! Take tha' ye Brit!_

_If I have gotten any of this information wrong, please inform me so I can fix it._


	52. Above

**Above**

"And then he hit me in the face with the iron bust. I don't understand why!"

France sighed, as if Spain had said something either very disappointing or very obvious to him. Spain recounted in his head all of his words, but nothing came back to him as sounding very stupid. He assumed what France was about to say something which he would think was obvious, but would be really bad advice. At least, it was so most of the time for Spain. Maybe the advice worked all the time for the Frenchman, but Spain doubted it.

"You did insult him by saying _he_ was the one who did it," France remarked smoothly, sipping from his wine glass. Spain shook his head.

"It was obvious! And I wasn't mad – I wasn't even going to make him put it back up!"

"You insulted him, my friend. Either you apologize, or your bed is going to be empty for a while."

Spain frowned, musing the thought over his coffee. That was a horrid thought! Romano was just too cuddly to keep out of his bed. He was practically immune to the barrage of insults that usually began the night, for the rest of the night was completely worth it. And the younger one never really meant all what he said.

"So even thought I meant nothing by it, I should apologize?"

"Oui, monsieur," France smiled, glancing at his watch. "Sorry I have to cut this short. England believes he has a vacation now, so I have to go make him _work._" He winked.

"Ah, yes." Spain was never against England's plans being foiled. It was hard to forgive the piracy.

"Tell me how it works out," France grinned, standing up.

Spain smiled. "Gladly."


	53. Below

**Below**

"And then I hit him in the face. With the bust. Bastard deserved it."

"Romano," Veneziano sighed, as if Romano had done something he had not approved of. Romano thought about what he had said, knew exactly what Veneziano did not approve of, and promptly did not care. Veneziano and he never agreed on what was the right thing to do and Romano had no thoughts that it would start now. The most likely thing was that his brother would start whining about it and Romano would just end up leaving.

"He didn't even do anything wrong!" Veneziano cried, poking at his pasta with a fork. Romano scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"That idiot shouldn't have said anything. I knew what happened. I was going to fix it."

"And mentioning it is taboo? Brother, you know Spain usually just talks about whatever is going on! He was just trying to start conversation."

Romano pushed back the feeling of throwing the remaining contents of his plate into his brother's face. Oh, he _knew_ what Spain thought he was doing. The problem was that it was not what Romano wanted him to do. He was clumsy and he did not want that idiot there to witness it!

"I don't care."

Veneziano looked sad. Romano tried not to care about that too. But he failed immensely. Romano tended to do that often.

"Fine. I guess I'll tell him I didn't mean it, or something." Veneziano grinned.

"Yay~! I'm so glad! I would hate for you and Spain to fall apart or something over something as little as that!"

"It wasn't little!" Romano gritted his teeth.

It really was.


	54. Incalculable

**Incalculable**

1933. Germany looked into his eyes and saw the future. He just had not been certain whether he liked it. A future in eyes he could not read.

But anything had to be better then what was going on right then.

Anything?

Yes.

When did children become involved? Germany was immune to the feelings he might have had when the Hitler Youth were created. The _Lottern_ started it. Germany knew when it had begun. When the music came to him. How much he had liked it.

_"Swing heil!"_

"It don't mean a thing~"

His boss had hit him.

Germany asked him to do it again.

For he had no idea why he had begun singing. And he did not want to do it again. His preference in music could not be what the enemy liked.

America found out though and would stick a loud gramophone in his window. As much as he tried to tell his boss it was not him, he was punished.

Germany told himself he needed it. He had to be more careful. He had to show others what would happen if one disputed the Führer.

For his boss seemed unapproachable. Unapproachable to his country?

Germany felt as if his calculations had missed something. This was the man he had felt was best for this job.

The marks left on him said otherwise.

* * *

_Lottern - laziness or sleaziness, which the Nazi Germans used to describe the people interested in Swing._

_"Swing heil." The obvious mockery of 'Seig Heil' made up by the children who swung against the Nazi regime in Germany._

_Swing originated in America, as well we know, so it is understandable someone like Hitler who hated anything not his perfect image of Germany would punish anyone who liked Freedom's music.  
_


	55. Wire

**Wire**

It cut into his wrists and there was the remarkable feeling of warmth running down his back. It also cut into his ankles, but the blood was not enough to warm his bare feet from where his entire body rested on stone.

"Oh. My. God. My face must, like, look a mess."

He was not talking to anyone but himself, really. Even if his captor was to show up, he was unlikely to listen. The country did not want the other to listen anyways. That guy had no taste in uniform, he would not understand the horrors of dirt on his face. Dirt smeared with blood.

"My outfit is totally ruined!"

A hacking cough left him and it took him a while to catch his breath. That was not stopping him now, he had too many complaints!

"Oh my God, Liet will, like, not even recognize me. That's _so_ stupid."

He had not even seen Lithuania for a long time. Still, that did not stop him from hoping otherwise. The other would be all right. He did well under his rule. And he had not tried being soft on the brunette. His eyes went blurry, but he was not certain whether it was from his tears or the pain.

"Hel_lo!_" he called out.

Really, anyone now.

Anyone.

It hurt so much, anyone.

"Oh my God..." he whispered, dissolving into tears.

Anyone but Germany. Anyone but him.

* * *

_Of everyone involved in World War Two, Poland lost the highest percentage of his people. Over seven million died through German occupation and the concentration camps and Soviet Russia massacring Poles to incite Germans into attacking. Polish resistance against the Germans failed for the Allies could not help without the Soviets, who would not incite a 'criminal effort' of fighting against the country now governing them. Postwar Poland would be taken over by Russia, because Poland could not resist._


	56. Landslide

**Landslide**

It was not his fault. It was the rain, you see. The rain was what caused the earth to come tumbling down. Not the water he had poured over the top.

He had watched the results on an ant hill, when he had spilled his lemonade. He watched what happened, watched the ants die. It was sad, but then Germany had become impatient and Italy had to run back over without the drink he had left to get.

Minor landslides on Monte Toc were nothing. At least, that was what he was told. They continued pulling water over the top. He babbled on to Germany, for everything was normal.

10:35pm. October ninth. All of the earth fell down.

Italy had only been drenched before. But now he was drowning.

Germany found him and dragged him out of the water. He was breathing by that point and smiled at the fuzzy figure standing above him.

"Oh, God's mysterious signs of love, ne Germany?"

"No Italy. That is not it at all."

* * *

_1963, October 9th. Heavy rainfall and immense levels of water drawn from the Vajont Dam (under Monte Toc, north of Venice) caused a landslide into the dam. 260 million cubic metres of earth fell into the resevoir, causing a wave 250 metres high. Around 2,000 people were killed by the ensuing flooding which destroyed six villages and wrecked many others. Compensation was mostly payed to those who were barely hurt by the damages. The Italian government had been warned about such an occurence, but journalists who wrote about such things were sued for 'disrupting the peace'. A common excuse given for the event was that it was 'God's mysterious signs of love.'_


	57. The Beginning is the End is

**The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning**

When Germany snapped, Italy was the first to know. Italy began saying anything comforting, holding on to the other, keeping him where he was.

Italy had no idea what to do.

Germany spoke wildly, both of things Italy remembered from a long time ago and things he knew nothing about. Italy held Germany's head between his hands and tried to calm him. With words, with kisses, with anything he could think of.

Germany did respond to the kisses and some of the words. But Italy realized suddenly it was not the response he had wanted.

Germany was ready to conquer the world in _his_ name.

Italy would pull at him, trying to keep him in one place, but Germany was too strong. And Germany did not seem to notice Italy's fear.

Italy would scream for the other countries to run. The first few did not, because they were wondering why Italy was pulling on Germany who was paying no heed to him.

The next ones did, because they had found out what was going on.

"You're tired," Italy sobbed, trying to get his words through as he stroked Germany's face. "You're tired. We should sleep. Please... let's sleep..."

Germany stared at him blankly, as if not seeing him at all.

But he listened.

Italy got no sleep and cried into the other's shoulder the entire night.

The next day Germany was back to himself, confused as to why they were not at either of their houses, asking what had happened to the previous day.

Italy cried harder and Germany let out some confused exclamations.

Each country demanded reparations.

Italy stared blearily at all of the countries. For Germany's sake he also wondered aloud exactly when had World War Three happened.


	58. Door

**Door**

"_i will come to take you," he said. i knew he meant it. he always meant it. this time though, this time he could actually do it._

_as much as it amused me, i could never let such a thing happen._

_you think so, my little fae friend? i have locked him out again. he has lost his sweet words. he should know better then to think of seducing me to open my doors to him when his swords lay out there._

_what? he is not coming?_

_typical france, promises and never delivers. leaves me with my words to fight him off, but never gives me the opportunity to say them._

_i so wanted to fight him off..._

"Let us overcome our long-standing rivalries and build together a future that will be stronger. Because we will be together."

Oh, his words. His picture perfect words. I lean against the door, because for some reason I think that will keep him out for a little longer. If my weight is against the door I can not turn to fling it open. He has to do better than words.

"If we want to change Europe, my friend – and I do wish to change Europe – we need you inside Europe to help us do so. Not standing on the outside."

"Inside Europe?"

I did not mean to muse that aloud. I did not mean to say those words. I do not mean to hear his laughter, not mocking or derisive or teasing as it has been before.

"Come with me, my darling. Or at least open the door for us to talk."

What do you think, my fairy friends? Should I let him in? I am afraid he is here to use me again. Whether we try or not we end up on opposite sides of an argument.

"At your own pace, my love."

I rip open the door to yell at him. He only laughs.

I try not to smile. 'We will be together' indeed. It is not just easier to give in.

It feels right to.

* * *

_Napoleon planned on invading the United Kingdom, but never got around to it. England got the drift though, and upped their navy and South East defenses to lock France out. But really, the English claim on the English Channel and the improved navy is thanks to the threat of Napoleon's invasion. I think Hetalia already did something like this, they fell into a hole or something that England dug._

"_Overcome our long-standing rivalries and build together a future that will be stronger because we will be together," and "If we want to change Europe my dear British friends - and we Frenchmen do wish to change Europe - we need you inside Europe to help us do so, not standing on the outside," was said by the current President of France, Nicolas Sarkozy, to England. Well, the United Kingdom, but England is the one who was the rival he speaks of._

_Watching Eddie Izzard's performance in France, his audience thinks the majority French people are okay with the English. Yet the majority of English hate the French. Funny, that._


	59. Enemy Gate

**Enemy Gate**

"Are you ready?"

He nodded and the other blond readied the weapon. Hefting it in his hands, staring over the brick wall at the target.

"He might not be there."

"But the lights are on!"

"And that proves what, America?"

America frowned. He tried not to roll his eyes. It seemed, no matter what side he was on, there was always going to be someone who would not think everything through. At least America seemed to have some thoughts going through his head, limited though they might be at times.

He looked around the brick and through the metal gate.

"He's there. On three. One. Two."

America threw it. He swore and pulled the younger nation away from the building. He heard the breaking window and the sound of the detonation. He practically dragged him across the road and over the fence around the park on the other side.

"I said on three!" he hissed at the other. America grinned.

"You would have said the conditions were perfect on three, so I was just allowing for the time."

"Then I would have just started counting earlier!" he groaned, pushing some of the hair which was no longer gelled up out of his face.

America used that distraction to kiss his face. He did not bother to push the other away.

"Now that France and his living room are covered in fluorescent orange paint, what do you want to do?" America asked.

Germany would have responded, but with America's hands trying to unbutton his shirt the American already seemed to have an idea of his own and had only been asking to be polite.

He managed to make the other wait. Honestly. America was simply too impatient.

* * *

_My OTPs are still /Germany and Japan/America, but this pairing tickles me. As in, I laugh just thinking about it. Especially after listening to the audio skits. America bothers Germany _so_ much._


	60. Stone

**Stone**

"I got the fact that it's made out of stone," America waved off. Russia frowned at him and Japan looked sadly down at his camera. "But what the fuck is a henge?"

"Indeed," Russia rolled his eyes, trying to enjoy the view.

"If you both had not knocked out our guide, he might have been able to tell us," Japan mentioned. America looked at Japan strangely. Russia smiled.

"But England was asking for it!" Russia protested sweetly.

"No he was not."

"Maybe not in the exact words," America sided with him against the smaller man. "But I think, deep down, England really just wanted to be left at that McDonalds."

Japan seemed to be trying not to blanch, but Russia had no such qualms, very obviously making a face at the thought of the place America had made them stop by for lunch.

"But that doesn't answer my question," America huffed, staring back at the stone structure. "What the fuck is a henge? It's not even a word, I'll bet. They were just at a loss what to call it."

"Indeed," Russia rolled his eyes again.

"Hey!" America called down to some other tourists as he began walking towards them. "What's a henge?"

Japan shook his head. "Why are we sightseeing Europe with America?"

Russia did not know about Japan, but he had lost a bet. A drinking bet.

He lost a drinking match against the man. And he had chosen what the match was going to be.

Russia was almost curious what Japan had suggested he and America do that he had managed to loose against the younger nation.

On the other hand, he did not want to know.

* * *

_Henge _is_ word meaning a prehistoric architectural structure. Does anyone actually know this before hearing about Stonehenge, or are they like me, who wonders what the hell is Stonehenge supposed to be in stone form and finally looks it up one day? This makes the name Stonehenge sort of stupid to me._


	61. Bright

**Bright**

He was her shinning star. There was nothing he could do to change this fact. Because of who he was, the person he was, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. Her knight in shinning armor.

Her brother was the most wonderful person in the world.

Vash set her property on fire once. It mostly just burned up her garden. She tried not to cry, failed, and cried into him.

The next day she saw him out there planting new flowers, trying to see whether they were the same kinds as she had out there before.

Once he had broken into her house. She had no idea, and would never have, but for the fact he came and told her, apologizing all the while.

She could never be mad at him, he never did anything which would even make her want to try to be.

He was perfect, her brother.

Heidi wished for nothing more than for Vash to be happy.

Because he made her happy.

* * *

_In 1985, Switzerland shot off rockets which accidentally landed in Liechtenstein and caused a forest fire. Switzerland payed for the damages. Then, in 2007, 171 infantrymen during a routine training exercise found themselves two kilometers into Liechtenstein before they turned around and headed back. Liechtenstein was not worried at all about it, they only found out because they were told.  
_

_DF and I call Liechtenstein Heidi as there is no name for her yet. We think it fits._


	62. Hold

**Hold**

Kiku was not certain when it had happened. It had not been hard and fast. It had been slow and easy – the country had not even realized he had fallen for him.

His boss had, however, and commanded that Kiku back away from the situation. If they were sliding, he did not want his people to slide into _that_ grip.

For when he appeared Kiku felt his heart skip a beat. _Stay..._

When he smiled Kiku felt as though his breath was taken away. _Laugh..._

When he touched him Kiku felt as though he was rooted to the spot. _Don't stop..._

When he kissed him Kiku felt as if everything was perfect. _Yes._

And if he left, all of that could be lost. No matter what his boss said, Kiku was not certain if he wanted to take that risk.

Kiku stepped forwards, turned, and saw him.

Ignoring all protocol, all orders, and everything, with all of his remaining energy he ran into Alfred's arms.

He hated being dependent.

But if he had to be...

He would rather it be when he could be with Alfred.

* * *

_Over two hundred reviews? Thank you all so much!_


	63. Stories

**Stories**

France was ready. Oh, he was beyond ready. Had a map to the other's house. Knew exactly the layout. Knew what he was going to do when he got there.

"I'm going to take him."

Nothing personal against Russia. He just should not have spoken against annexing Western Galicia to the Grand Duchy of Warsaw. It was really the last straw. Everyone else agreed with France's ideas. Because they were perfect like that.

Really, he and England were really getting on France's nerves.

"Time to go."

And he ran.

And ran right back.

"It's a bit cold! It's a bit cold!" he went straight to bed, hoping to regain feeling in all of his extremities. His boss was mad, but...

"Why don't _you_ go?" he sobbed from under his blankets. France took a few moments to recompose himself.

"All right, bad idea."

Very bad. Especially as Russia told England, Prussia, Sweden, Austria, and some others. Trashing France's house became a popular idea.

And England had dibs.

* * *

"I've got a better idea."

All those stories about previous attempts to take out Russia, well, they were not Nazi made were they? And he was not stupid enough to stick around during the winter! They would be done by then.

At least, this is what his boss told him. Germany had his doubts. Especially as they were running out of people and supplies before winter neared and the goal had not been accomplished.

"Get, like, outta my yard!" Poland would yell at them from safely inside his house.

Germany pushed on.

And pushed right back.

"Oh, it's the same idea, it's the same idea!" he assured his boss, running right by him and into his house.

His boss was furious.

"Stand or die!"

Except Russia was right outside his door.

Germany cursed himself. It was _such_ a stupid idea.

* * *

_Eddie Izzard again, with a extra bit of history. When I can, I will write it out._


	64. Laugh

**Laugh**

_I_

He tried. Tried and succeeded at something, for once. But really, sometimes Antonio would do something and Lovino would just want to fall into the other laughing.

_II_

"You're joking!" Whether he was joking or not, Feliciano laughed. Half from the hilarity of it all. The other half was the incredulity of the things his brother was serious about.

_III_

He said he had work to do because it was the truth. He was serious all the time because that was what he was. Ludwig would give anything to laugh. Feliciano could make him smile and he began to believe it was not impossible.

_IV_

He was proud of his brother. As proud as he could be, considering. As much as Gilbert called himself Prussia, he laughed as the wall between them came down, allowing them to become brothers once more.

_V_

She hated him, that was an absolute truth. At the same time, Elizaveta could think back on when she and Gilbert were friends and laugh at the irony of life that she would hate him so much now.

_VI_

She knew him inside and out. At first, he did not think he wanted that. Then there was a part of himself he remembered when she was there. There was the day Roderich's beautiful wife tickled him until he was out of breath and all work was forgotten.

_VII_

No one would hear him say otherwise. They had never been friends. It was harder to deny when Roderich would say something, an inside joke so old, that made Vash laugh until he cried while no one else made a sound.

_VIII_

She was quiet and she did not mind. She did not laugh loudly, but she laughed often. Living with her brother tended to make her think she was loud. He told her different, but Heidi was certain of it.

_IX_

"Oh my God, you _didn't!_" But she had, so he would treat her to a day shopping. Heidi might have been a bit more conservative than Feliks, but they liked the same things. He never felt restricted with his laughter, but it was certainly different with her.

_X_

He was annoying. He had once been so shy. At the same time, as the blond rambled on a story which sounded so similar to one he had heard more than once, he found himself laughing. In different places. Feliks said he was weird. Toris would laugh harder.

_XI_

The sound of broken bones was never accompanied by crying. He would always listen, waiting for the tears to become loud, for the accusations to come. His dear Toris. Ivan knew it would be the perfect melody to his laughter and still dreaded the day it would finally come.

_XII_

They could both be so lonely. Unlike others it was not choice. Deep, deep north, in the snow drifts, the only sound Matthew could hear was lonely laughter from another part of the world. It was easy to laugh as well when he realized Ivan was not so far away.

_XIII_

It was a father's charge to make their child laugh. He went there in mind of doing that. Then war, peace, and more war followed. Francis was appalled to realize by the time he remembered to go back to Matthew, his boy was now too quiet.

_XIV_

He bottled up all feeling inside except for anger. It made it easier. But when circumstance found them both red faced, half undressed (somehow), and shouting at each other, Arthur found it easier if he just laughed first. Laughing before Francis meant he won that battle.

_XV_

Ranting and raving, he never really got tired of hearing it. Certainly he never did what Arthur told him to, he laughed more often around him then not. He would never tell him that. Alfred was afraid of losing what they had now. Again.

_XVI_

No one could make sense of that nation. Asked why he bothered being friends with Alfred, he could not always answer immediately. _He made him laugh_ sounded like a hollow excuse sometimes.

Until Kiku laughed. Then it sounded perfect.

* * *

_I really like III, and number VI and VII both are screaming at me to make a longer story of them._

_Anyone want me to continue on any one of these sixty four chapters? I could probably go and look up some more prompts, but I do not think will. If I do I will start another story. If someone wants me to extend on any of the drabbles, either with a companion drabble or more or whatnot, I will take any suggestions. All previous suggestions have not been forgotten. I will search through my reviews to find the other ideas and will get most of them out eventually._

_I want to thank all my readers, people who had this story on favourites or alerts, and especially my reviewers._

_AnimeDuchess, you have been there since the beginning, chapter one, and it is really thanks to you that I have tried to have an update per day. New into the fandom and you made me feel as if I had not completely botched it up, so I continued. Thank you._

_crimson-obsidian-rose, you have given me reviews I like to reread. I feel very good about myself afterward, even if I was a little uncertain beforehand when I first posted them. Thank you._

_I Spazz With Pizzaz, Aya-TheBlackRosedPrince-, mankinfan, Alana-kittychan, Buko-koko, NickyFox13... and everyone else who reviewed even only once or twice, thank you. (DF, you know where you stand... XP )  
_

_Due to popular demand, I am currently working on my Hetalia Comedy of Errors. I am trying to decide on where I should cut off for each chapter. The interactive portion of my story: **Do you people want normal sized chapters, or should each chapter be every time I change point of view/change scene?** I could probably get an update a day for the latter, but it would look more like a regular story the other way. What do you think? Here to please the public, people. At least, that is what I tell you~_

_Thanking you all for reading,_

_Words_


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